I find it funny, the pity party. I'm quite good at it, which is why I don't date people, because no one wants to be a witness to that kind of thing.

What goes on in my head, and my feelings, are mine alone, jealously guarded, never meant to the see the light of day. And I throw the pity party only because I share my feelings with people - in this case, a text that really isn't strange or bizarre or anything, and perfectly reasonable. But it threw me off the deep end, only because I shouldn't have said anything at all. That's me, oddly enough, that when I share my feelings and thinkings, I've just threatened myself into depression. I'm out of my comfort zone when I talk about my feelings and stuff. I'm far more comfortable talking about things and concepts that don't directly relate to me. I can talk about music, going to college, food...but not my feelings. In my head, when I do manage to say something, my brain starts blah-ing, like the adults in a Charlie Brown cartoon. "Wahwah wah wahwah." Often, if I start talking about it, my mind will suddenly stop working. My super awesome memory becomes fuzzy, and it's like I'm not there, not really, and my brain tries to occupy a different corner of my brain, and I never remember what I say, because I don't want to remember that I said anything, because I wasn't supposed to say anything, at least not aloud, and who the fuck wants to really hear how I feel, because it's boring and mundane, and no one cares, even if they were the ones that asked.

When I got my hair done, she asked me about my mom. I don't remember the conversation, because suddenly I wasn't in my brain anymore. It's kind of scary when I think about it, because I'm the person that recall exactly word for word a conversation about something that I had four years ago, but when it comes to feelings, I don't remember. I don't want to. I don't know why I do this.

I'd love to seek help for this, but I don't think I can. First, I'd need to be able to talk to a stranger about it, and I can't. Well, okay, I'm telling the internet, but the internet is different. I expect that the internet is going to be a douchebag and laugh at my emo-riffic screeds. But actual people and face-to-face? I can't. But leaving that aside, it's the feeling I get when talking about it that I hate and would rather avoid. I'd like to stay in my brain please.

This is why I pretend that I'm the happiest person in the world. It's not that anyone's really going to know any different, and most people don't care enough to scratch the surface. They've got other things to worry about, other things to think about. Everyone always forgets about me, because I'm not the center of the universe, and I don't fight for attention.

So I think the answer is yes, I am insufferable.